


Give Me the Best Ending You Can

by Lazydesk



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Post Trespasser DLc, some endings just hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8600311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazydesk/pseuds/Lazydesk
Summary: Sometimes when things end it is better to remember the happy moments from the beginning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> “There are no happy endings.  
> Endings are the saddest part,  
> So just give me a happy middle  
> And a very happy start.”  
> -Shel Silverstein

_There are no happy endings_

            The tiny woman clutched her bicep staring down at where forearm and hand had once been. There was nothing their but she could still remember how it felt to touch grass or another person’s skin. Raising her chin she pushed open the door, the book that had started this all tucked under her bad arm. The eyes of the world’s most powerful men and women were all trained on her. With simple words she told them to all fuck off, heart having been hardened by recent events. Demitra Trevelyan shamed Fereldan for their fierce arrogance. Their pride was blinding them to the fact that they were still recovering from the Breach. She shamed Orlais for their attempt to control her. They thought her so ready to bend to their whims simply because she had put Cassandra on the Sunburst Throne. The Inquisition would hold their position in Skyhold as an impartial party; yet she made it clear that if an attack was brought against her home, she snuff out the flame of rebellion before it ever met her walls. Turning on her heel she marched out of the meeting room with a heavy heart.

_Endings are the saddest part_

At night she would cry, locked away in her chambers. The nights were the hardest part. During the day, when she was surrounded by her family of misfits, it was easier. At night the incomprehensible loneliness took hold, cold and unwavering. Everyone was out doing their jobs. What could she do when she had a hard time dressing herself? Dorian, the best friend she had ever had, was back in Tevinter changing the way his country worked. Bull had followed him, trailing behind the mage like a shadow. Cassandra was the Devine, beautiful and strong; a woman like her had no time for the Inquisitor now. How she missed that woman’s company. The one that had hurt the most was Solas, a man she still respected despite everything. Their race separated them, his claims to destruction ringing across her mind nightly. She missed their long talks and his painting lessons. The wisdom and knowledge he had imparted to her seemed tainted now. Sera had stayed, occasionally going on missions for Red Jenny. Cullen was doing well, despite all the marriage proposals. Josephine, unchanging would set hot coffee upon her desk every morning. Leliana was just part of the shadows, always seeing more than she told. Unexpectedly Krem was the one who would come to her chamber and hold her at night when the ache got to be too much. His warm skin against her cheek was the one thing that could ease her to sleep.

            The door slid open and the Charger slipped quietly in. Krem was dressed in simple trousers and a light cotton shirt. Pulling back the covers, he slipped in beside her. Pulling her back against his chest, he breathed softly against her hair.

            “I always liked the tattoo on your arm,” He told her and traced his fingers down her bicep. “Made you look tough.” Demitra laughed and wiped away her tears. Kissing his lips softly, she smiled for the first time that night.

            “Well you know me, always tough,” She chuckled softly. Leaning back she looped the fingers of her right hand with his and sighed.

            “Oh and before I forget, Bull wanted me to tell you something.” She could feel him smile. Turning she cocked a brow at him.

            “And what’s that?” She missed the big Qunari already. Krem’s mouth twitched and he tried to contain himself miserably.

            “He wanted me to let you know that you’re both…all right.” He pointed dramatically to her missing limb. For a moment Demitra just stared and burst into laughter.

            “Honestly I am surprised he didn’t pull that one while I was still writhing in pain on the ground.” Though happy days had left her, some things could get better with time.

_So just give me a happy middle_

            “Solas!” The man jumped at the Inquisitor launched herself over the banister in the library and landed in the center of his desk. Papers flew in every direction and fluttered slowly to the ground. Swiping red curls out of her face, the tiny rogue smiled so brightly it could put the sun to shame. Demitra extended her hand to him, a leather bound journal with elven designs across the  cover was thrust upon him. “I thought this might interest you. It appears to be very old, before the  Dalish.” Gingerly the man pulled the journal from her grasp, scattered papers long forgotten. Cracking the pages of the journal, he thumbed the parchment. There were tears collecting in the corner of his eyes.

            “Wherever did you find this?” Not even bothering to find a chair the man simply sat upon the floor. The woman followed him to the dusty floor and nodded to the library level. Dorian tossed down a staff, intricate and heavy with spirt magic. Demitra caught it effortlessly. Though she couldn’t have possibly known these were his things from Arlathan. The journal was from his youthful years, the journey he took to become the man he was today. Subconsciously he figured she felt the fade and spirit magic and associated it with him on a whim. It did not lessen the joy he felt being reunited with things he thought lost to the void. Not thinking Solas leaned forward and hugged the small rogue. Gently she returned it. When they parted she smiled sweetly.

            “I found it in the Exalted Plains. It was tucked away in a small temple dedicated to Mythal. I felt the energy and it felt just as you do. I absolutely knew I had to bring it back to you.” She told him excitedly. Solas stared down at the items and felt a heaviness lifted away from his heart.

            “Thank you my friend,” He said softly; his voice soft and as calming as rain falling against earth. “This gift will not be forgotten.”

_And a very happy start._

            It was surprisingly warm in Haven, rain fell and didn’t freeze for once. Cullen was watching the sky send little droplets down. The patter of feet running towards him caught his attention. The Herald grabbed his sleeve and tugged him out into the rain. The woman was dressed in a simple navy tunic, her wild curls already dripping wet. Small bare feet splashed in the cold mud. There was an expression of such joy on her face that all protests stopped in his throat. In movements too graceful, she spun them in a dance. All the while she laughed and looked to the skies.

            “Oh how I missed the rain!” She explained. It was then that he remembered she was from Ostwick. Rain was common in the coastal city, storms could rage for days there. This tiny little storm likely reminded her of home. Slowly he started leading her leisurely though a more peaceful dance. The two of them stood in the rain, soaked to the bone dancing to a song that few knew. They were both a long way from home. They both were tired to the bone. They were both afraid. Yet the two of them were friends. With her wild curls and fierce determination she reminded him of his sister Mia. It was good to have a friend in such a cold and lonely place. The Lyrium withdrawals wracking his body hurt a little less. The flashing light that sparked from her hand calmed. For a moment they were at peace, everything was alright, and nothing could take this feeling of unbridled joy away.

**Author's Note:**

> I felt a little bitter with how Trespasser ended. I love hearing from y'all.  
> -Avery


End file.
